


Chains Forged in Life

by Cinaed



Category: A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 08:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17721512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: Two things that never happened to Jacob Marley.





	Chains Forged in Life

**Author's Note:**

> Written on Tumblr a while back, because Scrooge/Marley will always be an OTP. 
> 
> The title is a tweak from the following Marley and Scrooge exchange:
> 
> _“You are fettered," said Scrooge, trembling. "Tell me why?"_
> 
> _"I wear the chain I forged in life," replied the Ghost. "I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it.”_

**I.**

The doctor is bent very low over the bed when Scrooge comes through the door. When he straightens, there is a queer look upon his face, one which makes Scrooge falter. 

Scrooge’s shiver is not entirely from the chill of the December night, although he immediately scoffs at his own reaction. Marley has been dying for days, it should be no surprise, then, at the fact that he is dead. The only strangeness is that Marley took his time in dying, for in all other manner of business he was prompt.

“He’s dead then,” Scrooge says. 

“No,” comes a hoarse answer from the bed. The pale form stirs and sits slowly upright; Scrooge wonders that the doctor flinches and takes a hasty step back, as though Marley is some specter newly risen from the grave. A low, harsh sound that might have been laughter reaches Scrooge’s ears and then Marley amends, “Well. Not any longer.”

Scrooge does not know what to make of this queer remark, so he ignores it. He ignores, too, his relief that he need not lose his partner, although none in London would suit him half so well as Marley. “Well then, have you decided to live after all?” he says, masking his relief with a grumble. “You might have spared yourself the expense of the doctor.” He takes another step closer to the bed and then halts, struck by perhaps the very strangeness that made the doctor flinch. 

Marley’s face is pale and wan, but there is a strange glow to it, as though the fever still burns, so hot that now its brightness spills out from Marley’s face. His eyes glitter unnaturally as they squint in Scrooge’s direction.

“The chain, Ebenezer,” he says, and coughs. Raising a trembling hand, he stares at it as though he does not recognize it. “The chain,” Marley says again, voice soft, almost marveling. “So strange that I cannot feel it now, when I could feel every link before.”

“Jacob,” Scrooge says. If his voice trembles a little, he tells himself it is only because Marley’s strange rambling would unsettle anyone. “There are no chains upon you. Your fever has addled—” His words die upon his tongue as Marley seizes his wrist. His skin is hot, his grip hard enough to bruise.

“This was no madness brought on by my fever,” Marley says. The words ring with a conviction that makes even Scrooge’s skepticism falter for an instant. “God!” The sound is a moan, so filled with despair that Scrooge shudders. 

Then his mind goes blank as Marley’s other hand clutches at his shoulder and drags him closer to the bed. Scrooge flushes at the strange picture they make for the doctor, and then his mind goes blank as Marley touches his stomach with trembling fingers as though seeking an invisible chain. His belly twists, and he cannot breathe, cannot think as Marley pins him in place with his strange, desperate gaze and desperate touch. 

“We are  _damned_ , Ebenezer,” Marley whispers. He laughs, hopelessly, and if there is no chain upon him, his hand feels like an unmovable weight upon Scrooge’s hip. “We are damned if we do not look outside our counting-house to the world outside. We must make mankind our business.”

Scrooge does not know what to make of Marley’s rambling. He doesn't think he believes that there is punishment awaiting him for his years of sound business sense and yet.... And yet he trembles at Marley’s touch and his words, and the denial “Jacob, you are mad,” will not come to his lips.

 

* * *

 

      

**II.**

There is no word for his weariness. Language fails to explain this stretched-thin feeling, as though each step forward wears away a little more of his soul, and yet he cannot rest, cannot tarry even a moment.

It has been a very long time since he could ignore the restlessness for a while and sit beside Scrooge, silent and unnoticed, his pleas for Scrooge to escape this damnation falling upon deaf ears. And yet there had been happiness too, a strange, twisted happiness in seeing Scrooge’s sharp features and hearing the familiar way he muttered to himself about the day’s business.

Those brief moments seem like flickers of a slightly better dream amid an unending nightmare, and yet Jacob cannot even console himself that Ebenezer at least has escaped this torment. He hopes that Ebenezer listened to those visiting spirits, prays that Ebenezer is safe from this punishment, but he does not  _know_ , and since that Christmas Eve he has been propelled ever further from London.

Most days he is too weary and the memory of Scrooge’s stubbornness is too much for him to hope that Scrooge, at least, has been spared this misery.

Before him there is a child weeping from hunger. Her crying is soundless, as though she knows no one will listen and that voicing her misery will only steal away what little energy she has left, and yet the tears trickle down her face. He knows he cannot help her and yet he reaches out, the chain rattling upon his waist. His fingers brush through her cheek.

She cannot weep aloud, and so he cries for her, his miserable groans filling the air. How many girls starved because he clutched at his coin and avoided even the thought of charity? How many might he have saved from this child’s torment if he had not been blind and uncaring to this suffering?

He is still sobbing when something touches his shoulder. For a single, terrible moment he thinks that they have seen fit to set another chain upon him, and then he realizes it is a hand.

He turns and meets Scrooge’s sharp, appraising gaze. Another groan escapes him. “No,” he whispers, horrified. “Ebenezer, did you not listen—”

"Jacob,” Scrooge says, and the unfamiliar gentle tone calms some of Jacob’s panic. It is only now that he can think clearly and see that the lack of chains upon Scrooge and the peace in his face. “It is all right.”

“Oh.” Scrooge’s hand is still upon his shoulder, but it is a welcome weight. It seems to have banished the restless feeling that propels him ever onward. He leans a little into the touch, bows his head wearily. “I am glad for that. I didn't know if you would listen.”

“I almost did not,” Scrooge admits. He is quiet for a moment, and Jacob waits, wondering why Scrooge is here. “You still have a long journey ahead of you,” he says at last.

The misery, held at bay by Scrooge’s appearance, returns. Jacob smiles wanly, fidgets with his spectacles. “Yes. If this is your gratitude, a moment’s reprieve, then I thank you, Ebenezer.”

Unexpectedly, Scrooge snorts, and in that sound is the familiar exasperation Scrooge used upon customers who were being foolish. “Do you think me still so miserly, that I would repay your saving of my soul with a moment’s reprieve?” He pauses then, and although spirits cannot blush, still an air of embarrassment surrounds him. He says, slowly, “I have come to keep you company and share your burden, if you will have me.” 

Jacob cannot think. The words do not make sense, and then they do. He almost doesn’t recognize this feeling in his chest as happiness. He reaches out and clasps Scrooge’s hand, substantial to his touch unlike the living girl's. “Oh,” he says, foolishly. The chain still clanks around his waist, the money-boxes and locks still rattle, and yet he feel strangely light as he smiles tentatively back and says, “I would be glad for the company.”


End file.
